


Medics Just Wanna Have Fun

by vienn_peridot



Series: Eta Carinae 230 [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Culture, Crying, Dirty Talk, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Sex Toys, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3891748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus didn't really believe the 'Party Ambulance' stories he's been hearing.<br/>Then he spent an evening with Ratchet.<br/>He certainly believes them now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medics Just Wanna Have Fun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InuShiek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InuShiek/gifts).



# FIC

Rodimus showed up at the CMO’s quarters on time, fully fuelled and ready to spend the night celebrating Ratchet _finally_ unbending enough to agree to being properly courted for the core of Rodimus’ Cohort.

 _Just because Primes are different doesn’t mean we can’t do_ some _things the same._

He didn’t know exactly what he’s been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for the medic to observe protocol that was older than both of them combined. Ratchet sat them both down for smalltalk and ridiculously tiny cubes of an Energon vintage that almost made Rodimus forget their original plans.

After a while he started mentally kicking himself for not paying attention to Magnus when he’d given that lecture on Formal Cybertronian Customs. _Specifically_ how to effectively and politely direct the conversation when you didn’t want to offend the mech you were talking to. It just hadn’t seemed important at the time.

_I’ll listen next time._

“Here,” Ratchet said eventually, passing him an oblong box.

Rodimus cycled his optics, putting down his nearly-empty cube and opening the package. He whistled appreciatively when he saw what was inside, stroking one of the objects with a reverent finger.

It was a full set of wrist and ankle cuffs complete with a matching collar. They were made of some matte black substance that absorbed the light and would look absolutely _stunning_ against his flame-coloured armour. The sturdy rings for rope or other fun things were enamelled in the same golden yellow as his own frame.

“These look new.” He said, lifting a wrist cuff to examine it carefully.

“They are,” Ratchet said gruffly, “I had them made. I know you’ve already got a set but I wanted to do this properly.”

“I- Wow, Ratch.” Rodimus slipped a hand behind the medic’s helm, tugging him into a brief kiss before pressing their forehelms together. “ _Thank you_.”

He could feel the heat rushing to Ratchet’s faceplates, especially the chevron where it pressed against his helm. When Ratchet twitched uncomfortably hereleased him, grinning up at the embarrassed medic.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“Shut up.” Ratchet grumbled. “We doing this or what?”

“Of course! Unless you’ve changed your mind, that is.” He hesitated, giving the medic a questioning look.

“I haven’t changed my mind, Rodimus.” Ratchet said, shaking his helm. “Did you want to change anything or are you still ok with what we discussed?”

“Slag no, I don’t want to change anything!” The speedster grinned, feeling his frame begin to heat with anticipation. “I wanna find out if you really can do what you think you can.”

“Shall we get started then?” Ratchet asked, running a hand down the smooth, glossy metal of Rodimus’ chestplates.

The speedster answered by grabbing the collar from the box and kneeling, offering it to Ratchet who took it reverently, smiling down at the younger mech. He clasped it carefully around Rodimus’ neck and the speedster felt a careful finger testing it, making sure it didn’t pinch any of his cables. It fit perfectly, the soft lining providing just the right amount of cushioning and he couldn’t help purring at the delicious pressure of it over bundles of tender neural cabling.

“Alright, so you _do_ remember I’m not quite into the same kinds of games as you?” Ratchet asked conversationally, fixing the wrist and ankle cuffs to Rodimus’ frame and then clipping the wrist ones to the golden rings on the ankle cuffs. “A bit more casual.”

“Yeah, Mags reminded me before I came round.” Rodimus replied, grinning cheekily. “So where do you want me?”

“Right here.” Came the surprising answer as Ratchet lowered himself to the floor in front of Rodimus.

The medic leaned forward, blocky frame suddenly imposing as he placed his hands on Rodimus’ thighs and slid them apart. He hadn’t been expecting this. Their helms came close enough for Rodimus to part his lips slightly, anticipating a kiss but Ratchet dodged, dropping down to swipe a long lick up the centre of Rodimus’ pelvic armour.

Rodimus twitched and laughed, shaking his head.

“I should have listened to Drift,” He shifted his hips as Ratchet continued to lick over the transformation seams of his pelvic armour. “He warned me you were a sneaky old bot.”

“You don’t know the half of it, kid.” Ratchet murmured, flicking his glossa at a specific junction of transformation seams.

A quick jolt of pleasure flashed through Rodimus’ sensornet, priming it for more as his pelvic armour folded aside, baring the inner covers to Ratchet’s skilled glossa.

## ~V~V~V~V~V~

It didn’t take long for Ratchet to coax the thin secondary panels aside to bare Rodimus’ spike and valve arrays to the air of his quarters. Soft golden biolighting reflected off the beginnings of lubrication at the entrance of Rodimus’ valve, the sight and scent encouraging the heat slowly building in his own array at the sight of his captain spread open and at his mercy.

With lips and glossa Ratchet coaxed Rodimus’ spike to full pressurisation, enjoying the moans and twitches that accompanied each segment of spike as it slowly emerged from the internal housing. The sounds Rodimus made sent heat flooding through his frame and Ratchet purred with satisfaction at being able to get those particular noises so quickly. He continued to lavish the spike with long licks and slurped at the weeping head until Rodimus was on the verge of overload.

Right as the first warning sparks crackled along the top edge of a golden spoiler Ratchet whipped an overload inhibitor onto the red-and-gold spike, sliding it to the base and magnetising it into place before the speedster realised what was going on.

He sat back on his heels, smirking broadly at the thoroughly affronted look Rodimus gave him when he realised that his overload wasn’t going to happen. Ratchet wiped oral solvents and traces of Rodimus’ fluids from his faceplates with the back of his hand before tugging Rodimus into a kiss, smothering whatever the younger mech had been about to say. Rodimus moaned into the assault on his mouth, apparently quite happy to search out every trace of his own flavour on the older mech. He pressed forwards until Ratchet could feel warm chest armour flush against his own and the vibration of Rodimus’ powerful high-performance engines thrumming through them both.

Pulling away, the medic stood so his pelvic array was at optic level for the kneeling mech. Looking down at all the sleek lines and bright plating _seriously_ got him going; Ratchet felt more like a filthy old lecher than the Party Ambulance of old. _Especially_ when Rodimus gave him that particular cocky grin and licked their oral solvents off his chin.

“Gonna return the favour?” Ratchet asked, raising an optical ridge and glancing meaningfully down at the other mech’s red-and-gold spike.

“Gonna lend me an inhibitor?” Rodimus asked cheekily before shuffling forward and obediently nibbling his way up the middle of Ratchet’s panel.

“You’re going to need it to keep up with me tonight, Speed Racer.” The medic sighed as Rodimus wriggled his glossa into _that_ particular seam which always made his primary and secondary array covers open simultaneously. “I plan on enjoying myself _thoroughly_ and I don’t want to wear you out too quickly.”

He could feel open scepticism in Rodimus’ Field as he took in the state of Ratchet’s spike, fully pressurised and shining with clear fluid that leaked in a steady stream from the complex tip. Not bothering to wait for instructions Rodimus dove in and began trying to clean the mostly-red spike with long swipes of his glossa which did nothing but encourage the medic’s spike to produce more of the slippery stuff.

Gentle hands stroked the speedster’s helm crest and Ratchet sighed contentedly when the kneeling mech moved from licking to sucking, taking the end segments in his mouth and plying the sensors with his extremely flexible glossa. Rodimus was _really_ good with his mouth.

“A little more?” Ratchet’s voice was full of static and he didn’t care, especially not when it resulted in a purr from powerful engines and more of his spike sliding into that hot mouth. “ _Yes_ , thank you.”

Despite being thoroughly distracted by what Rodimus was doing to his spike, Ratchet didn’t miss the little snorting sound he made when Ratchet thanked him. The medic stretched slightly and tweaked the tip of a golden spoiler, provoking a full-frame shiver and a moan that resonated through every sensor in his spike. He could feel overload approaching, pulled headlong towards it by the feeling of Rodimus’ mouth on him and the sight of all that gorgeous speedster frame restricted by cuffs and focused entirely on pleasing him.

“None of that out of you, I’ll have you begging me to spike you before the end of tonight.” Ratchet somehow managed to make himself speak intelligibly. “And you’re going to do it _nicely_ or go without.”

Rodimus drew back briefly, letting Ratchet’s spike leave his mouth just long enough to answer.

“Pfft whatever, Hatchet.” Confident and mocking, every inch of his frame backed up the EM Field buzzing with lust and smug conviction.

They stared each other down, Rodimus grinning and Ratchet simply raising an optical ridge as he slowly brought a hand up to his mouth, the first two fingers extended. As expected, Rodimus’s optics shifted track the movement and focused on the extended fingers as Ratchet put them in his own mouth and rolled his glossa over them, stimulating all his favourite sensors. Rodimus bit his lower lip as Ratchet let bliss fill his EM Field. Just when the speedster was thoroughly distracted Ratchet sucked _hard_ and overloaded all over Rodimus’ face.

Charge snapped through Ratchet’s frame in a pleasurable wave, starting in the fingers he was sucking on and rolling down to his spike which gushed all over Rodimus’ slightly startled expression. Ratchet smirked, giving the tips of his fingers a last teasing lick while overload finished skittering through his circuits. Rodimus licked his lips again, stretching his glossa out to reach as much of the sticky silver as he could.

Ratchet chuckled low in his vocaliser, engine purring contentedly as he crouched to help the speedster clean himself up before anything dripped to his chassis. He licked at Rodimus, keeping him distracted by never quite coming close enough to kiss despite the speedster’s best efforts to chase his mouth. Ratchet separated the wrist and ankle cuffs from each other with two quick motions when Rodimus was clean enough and stood up. Coaxing the speedster to his pedes he carefully moving them out of the small puddle Rodimus’ steadily leaking valve had created on the floor.

“You’re _absolutely_ sure you shouldn’t have an inhibitor on?” Rodimus sounded cheerfully condescending as he let Ratchet lead him to the berth and guide him to lie on his back, “That was a pretty fragging quick overload.”

All Ratchet gave him was a dark chuckle as he smoothly attached both wrist cuffs to a sturdy ring set into the wall at the head of the berth. He pushed Rodimus’ legs apart and settled himself comfortably between them, holding up a smooth vibrator and waggling it to catch the red-and-gold mech’s attention.

“I wouldn’t be worrying about how quickly _I_ just overloaded, if I was you.” He said with a smirk, twisting the base of the vibrator to show just what kind of range the little toy had. “If I was you I’d be planning how you’re going to ask for a spiking.”

“Hah, keep dreaming.” Rodimus said mockingly, twitching his hips up so Ratchet got a clear view of his thoroughly aroused valve and the wet streaks on his thighs. “You gonna use that or what?”

“Oh I will,” Ratchet said smugly, pushing Rodimus’ hips firmly back down to the berth. “ _Eventually_.”

Ignoring the ankle cuffs, Ratchet used his broad shoulders to keep Rodimus’ legs spread and settled down comfortably; feeling his own valve cycle expectantly as he mentally ran through his plans. Putting the vibrator down he used one hand to spread the deeply ruffled exterior folds of the speedster’s valve, running into a little more difficulty than he anticipated since Rodimus was _extremely_ wet and his own exquisitely sensitive hands were providing as much –if not more- pleasurable feedback than his slowly repressurizsing spike would when exploring the same place.

He took his time, thoroughly enjoying the sensations as well as the reactions both accidental and deliberate teasing got from Rodimus. The speedster was moaning and twitching, crying out when Ratchet grazed over either of his two external sensor nodes. Clear liquid coated Rodimus’ neglected spike and it vibrated a little each time his engine neared maximum RPM.

_Ah, there we are._

Eventually he had Rodimus’ entrance exposed in just the way he wanted, both nodes pulsing brightly. Indulging himself, Ratchet slid the first two fingers of one hand in, twisting to tease before withdrawing the lubricant-coated digits and popping them in his mouth.

He looked up along Rodimus’ sleek frame, grinning wickedly into the speedster’s blazing optics as he took his time to clean his fingers. Rodimus moaned and bit his lower lip, watching avidly as Ratchet finished cleaning himself and picked up the vibrator again. Switching it to a low setting he slid it slowly into the waiting valve. As he suspected, Rodimus was so aroused that the slim toy entered with absolutely no resistance.

While Ratchet was making sure the toy was _perfectly_ centred in Rodimus valve he felt the initial surges of an overload course through the red-and-gold frame.

Rodimus had apparently forgotten about the inhibitor, thrashing and swearing creatively as the peak of bliss was snatched away at the last moment. Ratchet couldn’t help laughing, remembering which particular inhibitor he was using. It was one that allowed the wearer to experience the first third of an overload without allowing the process to go any further. A truly diabolical piece of equipment and one Ratchet absolutely looked forward to being subjected to.

“That’s Percy’s special design you’re wearing. I promised him a _thorough_ review.” Ratchet commented, locking the vibrator in place and crawling up the berth.

“Cheap tricks.” Rodimus managed to scrape together something like his usual cocky grin but there was no hiding the apprehension lurking in his Field.

“I’ll tell him you said that.” Ratchet said, positioning himself with one knee either side of Rodimus’ hips.

Leaning back so the speedster got a really good view of his array, Ratchet traced a hand slowly down his own chassis, starting lewdly right over his Spark. He watched golden fingers twitch against empty air as he traced what he knew Rodimus knew to be very responsive seams, moving inexorably towards his hard spike and dripping valve. Deliberately, Ratchet avoided his already well-pleased spike and spread his valve wide, drinking in the hungry moan that burst from Rodimus’ vocaliser at the sight of his extremely aroused valve array.

His valve was crisp red and white like the rest of his frame, heavy on the red like his spike and his biolights matched the colour of the sensitive protoform metal they were seated in, making the whole area glow temptingly. Ratchet’s valve had a rather interesting arrangement of external folds that he knew would look _especially_ attractive with the amount of lubricant he’d been producing. His entire valve would be looking glossy and particularly edible right about now. The effect wasn’t lost on Rodimus, who licked his lips hungrily and tested the resilience of the cuffs restraining his hands.

“Like what you see, huh?” Ratchet asked shrewdly, spreading himself further. “Bet you’d love to get your hands on me right now, rip off that inhibitor and spike me until you just can’t keep it up any longer.”

Rodimus made an embarrassing little noise high in his throat. Ratchet let amusement flow through his Field as he traced a thumb around his own sensory nub, sighing happily at the liquid heat it sent trickling through his circuits. Rodimus’ cooling fans ticked up another setting.

“Or would you get your hands dirty and see just how much my valve can take even without a fancy mod like yours?” Ratchet continued to verbally bait the younger mech. He slid two fingers from his free hand into his valve opening, slowly spreading them to give Rodimus a view of his internal biolighting. “I could take your entire hand _quite_ easily.”

The speedster’s powerful engine roared at the combination of that mental image and the visual display of Ratchet spreading himself obscenely, dripping all over the mech cuffed to his berth. Another overload crackled over his frame, the inhibitor allowing Rodimus that tantalising hint of relief before snatching it effortlessly away. Ratchet withdrew his hands from his own array, relishing the sight of the cocky young mech thrashing and swearing at him.

“Watch the language, Speed Racer.” Ratchet warned cheerfully, “I _was_ going to let you overload in my valve and finish me off by lapping your spill out of me. Don’t make me change my mind.”

He dropped straight down onto Rodimus’ spike, expertly impaling himself in one smooth movement. Rodimus made a choking sound that became a long, satisfied sound to match Ratchet’s deep groan as he worked his hips in a tight figure-eight pattern to stimulate every sensor along the walls of his valve. Slowly the medic changed motions, gliding his hips up and down and supporting himself with hands on either side of Rodimus chest. His optics slid shut briefly while he savoured the textured sides of Rodimus’ spike sliding through his passage.

## ~V~V~V~V~V~

Rodimus whined, bracing his feet against the berth and rising to meet the slow pace Ratchet set. He was fast reaching the stage where all coherent thought was gone and his entire existence narrowed to that annoyingly slim vibrator in his valve and the indescribable feeling of Ratchet’s valve engulfing every micron of his spike in a warm, wet embrace.

Unfortunately for him, rocking to meet Ratchet’s motions as he rode his spike like a champion shifted the vibrator teasingly within his valve. It moved just enough to tingle against the entrance to his gestation chamber and brush over nodes without actually satisfying anything. The smooth shape provided no grip for his callipers which were contracting erratically in a desperate attempt to get some decent stimulation from the toy.

Then Ratchet leaned forward and propped his elbows on either side of Rodimus’ helm and began speaking in a low filthy growl right next to his audial.

“So, you enjoying the ride so far?” Ratchet asked, grinding down hard on Rodimus’ spike. “Or am I going too slowly for the impatient little speedster, hmm?” _Grind_. “Should I change this up and spike you instead?” _Grind, grind_. “Frag you hard and fast. Fill you to the brim and empty you out again with my glossa.”

Those words triggered another overload surge that was stolen by Perceptor’s clever little inhibitor. Rodimus wanted to scream. One of his normal inhibitors wouldn’t have been so bad, but to actually get a promise of relief without full delivery was eroding his willpower way faster than he thought it would. A sharp intake of vents above him warned Rodimus to focus on Ratchet just in time to see the medic sit ramrod-straight as a long, slow overload rolled through his systems.

Rodimus’ wail of frustration was covered by Ratchet’s satisfied moan as his helm tipped back and he used both of those legendary hands to stroke his spike, valve rippling tightly over Rodimus’ spike as if trying to bring him along for the ride. Rodimus’ valve spasmed uselessly around the vibrator inside him and did nothing but increase the lust surging through his frame. When he was done overloading Ratchet stilled his hips and looked down at Rodimus with a little grin on his face. He had somehow managed to catch all of his spike’s discharge on his hands. It shone like liquid mercury against the red enamel.

“You want my spike yet?” He asked.

“Do you hear me begging?” Rodimus sounded a little more confident than he felt, but he knew that the static in his voice definitely gave him away. “I can _so_ outlast you.”

“Whatever you say, Speed Racer.” Ratchet said dryly, shoving his hands into Rodimus’ face. “Here, clean me up.”

Cycling his optics to reset them to a shorter focus Rodimus obediently extended his glossa and began to clean the sticky fluid from Ratchet’s hands, offering a quick thanks to Primus that Ratchet was holding still on his spike and he could more-or-less ignore the vibrator in his valve. It looked like he was going to get a bit of a reprieve.

It didn’t stay that way for long.

The instant he touched his glossa to those talented red fingers Ratchet let out a long, contented sigh, sinking more firmly onto Rodimus’ achingly erect spike. As he progressed from one fingerjoint to the next, Ratchet’s reactions confirmed that those rumours he’d about medic hands weren’t just rumours after all. Quick flicks of the glossa got him little gasps and moans, broad flat strokes produced deep lust-filled groans and some of the most erotic engine revving Rodimus had ever heard from a standard engine.

It was rather exhilarating, knowing he could make one of the most notorious mechs of both former armies whimper like that just by gently nibbling on a knuckle.

He didn’t care that he was flat on his back, cuffed and supposedly at Ratchet’s mercy. Even though his frame practically _burned_ with the need to overload after everything that had been done to him so far Rodimus felt like he was the one in charge as he finished up cleaning Ratchet’s hands and sent him into overload by kissing his palms and flirting his glossa over the hub where the tools forged into those marvellous hands connected to his neural net.

Ratchet shuddered over and around him, overloading with a hoarse cry and a flood of lubricant from his valve that slopped down over Rodimus’ pelvic armour as Ratchet collapsed forward to moan into his neck cabling. Rodimus squirmed uselessly as the inhibitor snatched another overload from him, jerking against Ratchet in an attempt to work the Pit-forsaken thing loose. The combined thundering of their engines carried through Rodimus’ frame to the vibrator in his valve and his patience with the unsatisfying stimulation came to an abrupt end when the medic sighed and sat up, beginning to grind slowly on his spike again with a sated expression on his face that caused the speedster no end of envy.

“Ratch, I swear if you don’t spike me _right now_ I’m going to break these cuffs and do it myself.” He growled, vocaliser producing nothing but vaguely glyph-shaped static.

Triumph washed over him from the medic’s EM Field but Ratchet didn’t stop to gloat, simply rising up off his spike and sliding backwards down the berth with a fluid movement his sturdy frame should _not_ have been capable of. Before Rodimus could do more than process the first cool brush of air across his lubricant-soaked spike Ratchet had the annoying little vibrator out of his valve and inserted two _very_ satisfying fingers in its place. Those two fingers became three while Rodimus basked in the satisfaction of _firm, definite_ pressure across his internal sensors.

“You certainly are ready for a good, hard fragging.” Ratchet observed with clinical detachment that shouldn’t have sounded as hot as it did and flexed his fingers slightly.  “Your valve shows all the classic signs of intense arousal.”

Rodimus gritted his denta and gave his potential cohort-mate a glare that could have melted tungsten, determinedly ignoring the talented fingers playing with his valve and the squelching noise it made when Ratchet crooked his index finger to catch a specific node.

“If you start listing them I’m going to do something regrettable.” The speedster snarled, letting his Field tell Ratchet exactly how little patience he had left.

Ratchet smirked and withdrew his fingers from Rodimus’ valve with a sucking sound, a pool of pink-tinted lubricant cupped in his fingers that he dribbled over his spike and took his own sweet time spreading it around.

Rodimus snapped.

“Ratchet. Frag. Me NOW.”

All that got was a bigger smirk and a raised optical ridge.

_Oh, you fragging-_

“ _PLEASE!_ ”

With a gracious incline of his helm Ratchet picked Rodimus’ legs up and slung them over his broad shoulders, sinking to the hilt in the speedster’s aching valve before he even finished shouting the glyph. Rodimus’ shout changed to a keen of bliss and he locked his ankles firmly behind Ratchet’s helm as the older mech began a punishing pace, apparently trying his level best to frag Rodimus right through the berth. It was exactly what he needed, fierce thrusts that slammed every aching node in his valve and were guaranteed to leave paint transfers on them both.

His keen crackled out into a string of pure binary noise as yet _another_ overload was seized before it could bring him relief. Rodimus felt tears of optical lubricants run down his cheeks while his valve rippled impotently around Ratchet’s spike.

_I just want to overload._

“Oh _frag_ that feels amazing,” Ratchet gasped.

The medic froze with his spike buried in Rodimus’ valve, frame twitching and shuddering against the back of Rodimus’ thighs as he obviously savoured the feeling of pre-overload spasms along his spike. Rodimus was too busy yearning after his stolen overload to notice when Ratchet withdrew and started guiding him with gentle hands, positioning the younger mech so he was on his elbows and knees on the berth before sliding back into his achingly empty valve.

“Last one, Speed Racer.” Ratchet murmured into his audial, pressing his strong frame comfortingly along Rodimus’ spinal struts. “You’ve done really well.”

Rodimus mumbled some sort of nonsense, tears dripping to the berth as Ratchet shifted his weight a little and started slowly rolling his hips in a gentle rhythm that was completely the opposite of how he’d just been moving.

It was wonderful and Rodimus let himself float on the slowly building waves of pleasure, deciding that he didn’t really mind if this next overload was stopped as well because this was absolute bliss. His frame tingled all over and there was nothing in his processor but the feeling of Ratchet’s frame over his and the rhythm of the spike moving in his valve and Ratchet’s mouth _licking and nibbling his way along the top of his spoiler_. Rodimus’ vents hitched and threatened to seize entirely when one of those legendary hands moved to grasp his spike firmly, pumping it smoothly in time with the pace of Ratchet’s hips.

 _Oh. Oh frag. Oh frag. Oh frag me, that’s_ good _._

He could feel overload building, somewhere beyond the edges of his immediate awareness. It came closer with every stroke of forged digits over his spike, every slow slide of spike through his valve, every kiss along the sensor-laden metal of his spoiler. He wanted it, needed it so badly he thought he’d fly apart if he didn’t get to have it. Fresh tears slid down his cheeks and Rodimus was just barely aware of making some pathetic little whimpering noise, desperate for release but not sure how to get it.

Ratchet’s hand faltered on his spike before resuming those steady strokes and something dropped to the berth. The medic kissed the central housing of Rodimus’ spoilers and that was all it took to ignite the long-delayed overload in his systems.

It closed in from all directions, an inexorable wave that flooded him with something like liquid light or pure fire for so long that Rodimus wasn’t sure if it was one big overload or a series of smaller ones. He screamed until his vocaliser shut down, letting his frame jerk and twitch however it wanted against Ratchet. Just as the ecstasy began to recede he felt Ratchet’s own overload flood his valve and set him off again.

When the second overload faded Rodimus found himself in a sort of daze, quite literally too fragged to move. He felt Ratchet withdraw and moaned static as hot fluid ran from his valve. Gentle hands wiped him down and coaxed him to move just enough for Ratchet to twitch the top covering of the berth out from underneath him. He curled up on his side, engine purring happily as he felt the approval and contentment in Ratchet’s EM Field.

He moved his arms and legs just enough to let the medic remove the wrist and ankle cuffs, but drew back stubbornly to keep the collar on for just a _little_ longer. Ratchet draped a soft blanket over him just as his cooling systems got him back to optimal temperature. Rodimus brought his optics online to see Ratchet standing over him with a fond smile on his faceplates and looking the most relaxed he’d ever seen the CMO.

Rodimus lifted his helm and stretched an arm out from under the blanket to make grabby motions at Ratchet, who snorted through his vents and slid back onto the berth. Rodimus curled into the medic’s side and felt an arm wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. Something hummed to life between them in the silence, a fragile little thread of awareness.

“The Party Ambulance is _officially_ my favourite emergency vehicle.” Rodimus croaked. “Can we do that again? You look good like this. All not-grumpy and stuff.”

“Sure.” Ratchet agreed. “Whenever you think you can handle it.”

Rodimus could feel the Cohort bond solidifying between them, sending tentative feelers along the existing bonds to the rest of his Core.

“Any time, Ratch. Any time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Gift for Inu during Finals Week Hell.  
> Title is Camster's fault. I had one and forgot it *sigh*


End file.
